


Flowers Bloomed

by ThatGuyAlex



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Death, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Requited Unrequited Love, Sad Ending, Short, Short One Shot, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatGuyAlex/pseuds/ThatGuyAlex
Summary: Every time I saw him, another flower bloomed.Both sides of Hanahaki Disease.Completed: 8/24/2020
Kudos: 7





	Flowers Bloomed

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on August 24th, 2020. I've just reuploaded all my works to AO3 now that I have an account.

Every time I saw him, another flower bloomed.

They were small, at first. Shaking coughs that resulted in unsprouted buds, heaving that gave way to bloodied petals. He'd hide them, every time, and yet with every lie that fell from his tongue another flower bloomed.

It was hard, knowing I was the one to cause him pain. He'd hide it, saying he had to use the bathroom just so he could hide the dry heaving as the flowers grew up into his esophagus. He had always had a different tone when speaking to me, but I never thought it'd get this far.

He was shaking, glaring at the image of himself in the broken mirror, bloodied petals filling the sink as his eyes gleamed with hatred. All I could do was turn away, pretend not to notice the lies, the hiding, the pain.

It was only natural for it to get worse. We spent less time together, as he had to constantly rush away to expel the petals that cut off his airways and choked him. Soon, I barely saw him. He was nothing more than a passing figure, a shadow of his past self, a memory of the time we had spent together.

When I realized I loved him back, it was too late.

Surgery, they said. It'd remove the flowers and keep him alive, but it'd take the feelings he had of me with it. There was no choice, really, because I hadn't realized it at the time. When I look back at those times now, it's only filled with regret.

The first time I coughed up a bud, I crushed it in my palms and threw it away. I finally understood the pain he felt, and I knew it'd get worse. He had no feelings for me, not anymore. My time was too late, and either I'd accept that fate or get rid of it before it killed me.

I refused.

It got worse, but that was no surprise to anyone. Choking on flowers and hacking them up into the trash can, the feeling of suffocation anytime I took more than a few steps, the tightness in my chest as I felt the vines wrap around my lungs as they filled with flowers. Yet I never removed it.

He begged me to get it removed but I refused. Maybe it was selfish, not wanting to let go of those feelings even if it killed me. After all, he had, so why couldn't I? Yet even as I struggled with the question, I always found the answer. Having those feelings were worth losing everything, even my life.

As I laid at my death bed, all I could do was smile. He was holding my hand, and the pain in my chest was unbearable. We exchanged our apologies, that we couldn't get to each other in time, that we found out too late. As the life slowly left me, I felt something gentle, as light as a feather, press itself onto my forehead, and I smiled. Maybe, in another time, things would've worked out. But things don't end that way, nothing ever really does.


End file.
